Sheela Pai And The Magic Moment

My attempt at capturing the magic moment at dawn

The other day I got a call on the land line, which is an unusual occurrence since it is a silent customer. I was sitting at the computer trying to work on a idea for the Sunday column when the call came, and startled, I rushed to the phone."Is it Harimohan? I am Sheelu, Rithu's sister," said the voice on the other end of the line. It took me back all those years ago (more than a decade) when I used to visit the Pai's at their Adyar home in Chennai. And also because I had been dying to tell Sheelu something that was a huge bit of an inspiration when I wrote  'If You Love Someone...' for a while now.

Ritha Pai (or Rithu as we call her fondly) was my junior at the Osmania University Engineering College and we became good friends, helped along mainly, by the fact that my wife Shobha and she were childhood friends. In the early nineties one of my many job then, took me to Chennai frequently for one particularly long and tedious assignment, which is where Rithu's family lived in a lovely old home in Adyar. I guess I must have first visited them when Rithu was also visiting from the USA and met Sheelu, her elder sister, for the first time. Sheelu was working with the TCS then, and apart from being one of the prettiest girls I have met, also possessed some extremely likeable qualities (such as having an easy presence, a warm smile and a pleasing manner and carrying it all off very matter-of-factly). I also found that she listened well and laughed easily.

Since I was delegated to the Chennai work those days, I would always make it a point to call on the Pai's since they lived close to my uncle, Dr. Sundaram's house at Kotturpuram. Sheelu, I remember, was always good fun to talk to, used to listen to my grandiose plans of turning into a writer very seriously and listened to the same kind of music that I did those days, which was incentive enough to go the extra kilometers from my uncle's place. Aunty and Uncle welcomed me warmly, for lunches and dinners (Aunty) and drinks of gin and lime (Uncle) over discussions on politics and the state of the country to which Uncle contributed a major part and I contributed by agreeing and drinking my gin. Sheelu also remembers me giving her my first manuscript/synopsis to read once.

The Magic Moment
Once Sheelu and I walked to the Besant Nagar beach to stare at the sea which was a huge pastime for a non-beach resident like me - when this visual got stuck in my head. It was just about getting dark but the moon was out. And even as I watched I could see that the waters of the sea which were kind of tranquil that day, caught a beam of moonlight from the full moon and drew a straight line to where I was watching it from. It looked as if there was a pathway to the moon from the beach and I was wondering then, that if there was a princess sitting in a castle on the moon and there was one way to reach her for the Prince, this would be it. I must have blabbered my great discovery to Sheelu and she might have heard it and dismissed it as my regular banter. But it stuck in my mind as if it were placed there for a reason. In fact the cover of the book 'If You Love Someone...' is a picture that I tried to take of the rising sun with the rays across the waters - at Marina in Chennai, many years later - in an attempt to recreate that moment.

When I wrote 'If You Love Someone...', I used this visual when Aditya and Meghna sit out a night in the beaches of Goa because it seemed appropriate. I wanted to tell that to Sheelu through the mail after the book got published but I did not have her mail id and I was trying to find a way to contact her when this call came. I met her that very evening with Shobhs and Anjali and spent some time catching up. I gifted both my books and did try to tell Sheelu of that moment, but I am sure that Sheelu did not get what I was trying to tell her especially since it was a moment of private madness. But it is was an important flash of inspiration in my life, one that I could use in a book.

I met Prasad, her husband after they got married. Prasad I remember was an avid reader and quickly caught on to the story of 'The Misfit' when I told him the plot. I later heard from my nephew Ajay who visited them in Seattle, where they were working, that her son was also named Ajay. And I got to meet young Ajay Pai this time, a friendly, smiling, good looking, pleasant natured young lad of nine. And it was good to meet Sheelu after all these years, looking just the same with her smiling eyes, easy graceful girly ways, easy laughter and maybe just a tad older and wiser. And it felt good to flash copies of my books (made me wonder at the power of intention) and tell her of my moment. Anjali entertained her with her nursery rhymes and Shobhs chatted her up catching up from their school days in Bellampalli  where they first met.

I have really good memories of Chennai in those days. We were all young and had ideas and plans and the whole world was there for the taking. And it was much fun to be able to go to a new city and meet people you know. Thanks Rithu, Sheelu, Aunty and Uncle. And specially Sheelu for sharing her time and giving space for that magic moment to happen. Here's hoping that you, Prasad and Ajay, when he is older, enjoy reading my books. And that we all get to meet more often too.

Let's Play - The Puffin Book of Sports Stories

And finally my little cricket story 'The Secret Weapon', a fictionalised account of a cricket match we played while in school makes its entry in the Puffin Book of Sports Stories. Puffin sent me one copy yesterday. It is slim, appears to be an easy read and has a foreword by Harsha Bhogle who confesses to his great love for reading (and the consequences of imagining). I have not read all the stories but I must say it is a good initiative by Puffin because there are no real sports stories for English readers - big or small. Let us hope this starts off a new trend and caters to that segment.

The 'Secret Weapon' is the story of Model School Cricket Team which is wondering how it can beat Orchid Public School. Model has no big players this year and  their coach actually went and picked nerds like Anshuman who was their chess captain. And Orchid has all state players who are bigger than them. But from a desperate situation Anshuman turns on the heat doing what he knows best - out think the opposition.

As for me, it was a nice surprise to see the book lying in the porch. Specially since I was wondering if it was some rejection by someone in the publishing industry! Thanks Annshu, my editor for this book, who took the trouble to come all the way for the Delhi book launch of 'If You Love Someone...'.

Inception - Movie Review

Watched 'Inception', Chritopher Nolan's much acclaimed movie at Prasad's I max yesterday with old chums Choudary and Sanjay. The excitement began at the ticket counter itself where they posted a warning that the movie will run for 2 hours and 28 minutes of packed excitement and that too without a break (so reload yourselves with as many goodies as you can from the highly expensive stalls, and of course visit the loo). As we waited in the lunge, we tried to figure out everything from what 'Inception' means to what the movie is about, we built up enough tempo by the time the movie got underway. And, oh, the warning poster said 'Don't miss the beginning' so we scrambled in soon as they opened the gates and settled down.

I will now try to honestly put down what I understood of the movie and my thoughts of it as well. Firstly, I must congratulate Christopher Nolan for keeping us glued to the seat for the entire 2 hours 28 minutes in stunned silence, most of which I spent leaning forward as I tried to piece together what was unfolding  at a very fast pace. The scale of the thought, the scale of everything - from the sets to the music to the stunts to the acting to the breathtakingly pacy screenplay - was incredible as the movie weaved its way from reality to dreams to sub dreams to sub sub dreams in a crazy rollercoaster ride as a team of idea extractors try to plant a new idea into a guys head. I loved the fact that someone could think of such an idea, develop it into a story that can hold attention, develop that into a screenplay and film of such a scale and actually pull it off. There are no condescending apologies, no treating the audience like someone who may not understand - Nolan went ahead as if it would be the most natural thing for the audiences to figure out all that was happening in all these layers and levels and a stories within stories. I loved the premise, the audacity and the understanding that somehow the genius of the director would connect with the genius within the audience (at least some part would). And, Chistopher Nolan draws us into his dream very succesfully indeed. At least he drew me and that is saying much, because I like my stories simple and honest. Boy meets girl and falls in love is fine with me. Inception is not simple, but its honest.

Let me get to the movie the way I saw it. This chap Cobb (Leonardo Dicaprio) is an extractor who has the ability to extract thoughts from people's minds with the help of a suitcase like device. He seems to have made that a profession since he has a good team working on it for a while now. But what we don't know is that he has tinkered around with the process of going into thoughts - his own and others - that he has messed up a bit, notably with his meddlesome wife who keeps popping up as his projection in his dreams (not real obviously) and in the most awkward moments when he (and the audience) does not want her around. Turns out that the two have been building entire universes of their own, peppered with unpleasant memories of their childhood and youth (going by the houses they built). Anyway, Mr. Extractor is wanted for murder and cannot return to his home and his kids because he is facing a murder charge. And all he wants to do, this one last job that he wants to attempt, is to get home to his kids (real ones and not the many dream ones that keep appearing). One doubt that  I had was why he wants to get home to his real kids when he can happily live with them and whoever he wants in his dream. I am sure that must have been explained somewhere in the movie and I must have missed it.

The extractor (sure Nolan thought of that as an idea for the title but it sounds like a dentist) is tested by a tough, unshaven Japanese businessman to extract his thoughts. The Japanese businessman is kind of satisfied with the extractor's performance which has crashing and bombing and flooding! Though it all happens in their dream, the sets and action must have been real so it was awesome to watch. Anyway Mr. Japanese Businessman makes him an offer he cannot refuse, he will grant access to the USA which is home to Leonardo and his kids, if he can plant a simple idea in his biggest business rivals son's head to dissolve his businesses. (Question was how could this businessman do such stuff to the USA when Leonardo himself cannot?)

Now the rival businessman of the Japanese businessman is ready to die and the son is ready to inherit his properties. This is perfect time to mess with his already unsteady head (filled with father-son memories when they flew a paper plane together), if Cobb can plant the idea or do an 'inception'. Sounds very sexy and all that it is not, I assure you, this inception process. Cob loves the idea of going back home so he agrees. (I had another doubt here, if this business guy was so powerful, why couldn't he just buy over the business or something like that instead of relying on all these unreliable stuff and not know finally whether he is alive or dead or real or illusionary?)

Anyways, there is a reason now for the hero to attempt the untried and I did not let my petty thoughts spoil the movie for me. Cobb starts his mission by picking his team - a young female college student studying architecture with Michael Caine, an expert British forger who lives in Mombasa, an expert at chemicals or sedatives and Cobb's partner who handles crises very well indeed apart from fighting in zero gravity situations. The forger is funny and the partner is terrific in his stunts. Anyway, they figure that to plant the idea into businessman son's head they need to go into his dreams - three levels deep - a dream within a dream within a dream. At each level apparently, something like five minutes of real time translates to one hour dream time and multiples of that as one goes deeper and deeper. So an hour here could go to some hundreds of years two levels down in a dream or something like that. And sometime, someplace, somehow they must plant the idea in the son's head that it is a good idea to break up his father's business. For which we need to know whether the son likes his father and whether the father likes the son and whether anyone likes anyone at all and based on this premise we dive into dreams, suspicious Japanese businessman and all. But not before Ms. Nosy Parker Architect pokes her pretty nose into Mr. Cobb's private dreams and discovers that a constant feature in all his dreams is his meddling wife who is mucking up all his dreams and now the whole team's. So we need to figure out Mr. Messed Up Cobb's head as well as Businessman's son's head for the movie to end.

Anyway everyone dives in, on a ten hour flight from Japan to the USA, into one level (where they get shot by a whole bunch of guys and get run over by a freight train almost), and then to second level (in some hotel kind of a place where there is no gravity after some time and a million security guys who cannot shoot straight) and then the third level (in some really snowy place with an old building guarded by a bunch of  useless security guards who do not even scratch even one of these guys). By the time we are all gasping for breath to return from these serial dreams, Cobb and Ms. Nosy Parker architect delve into another level to figure out his story and end it hopefully. So while vans with dreamy people are falling over the bridge, while zero gravity fights are being fought while bundling out another bunch of dreamy extractors, while businessman's son figures out his father really had no time for him even to say his last words, worlds collapse, collide, break, smash, morph, change until no one really knows whether its a dream or reality. But one thing we know in the end, is that if the totem falls, it is reality and if it does not, it is a dream. The totem totters, the audience gushes. Is it a dream, is it reality? Aah! The dreams looked pretty good to me actually and seemed to have more drama.

I cannot hold myself back but I have two suggestions - one to the Japanese businessman and the other to Cobb. Firstly the Japanese businessman could have simply let loose a few management consultants on his rival and they would have planted not one crazy idea that does not make any sense but a hundred (only thing they may have been more expensive than making this movie). Secondly Cobb could have planted the idea in the Japanese businessman's head that he should let him go with free entry to the US when he had his chance or plant it in the immigration chaps head or something more direct like that. Again, I am sure that there is some explanation to why he does not so forgive my ignorance.
 
But seriously, everything about the movie is awesome. His attention to detail is unbelievable - he must have had backup research for everything he put forward in the movie - from guilt to forgiveness, futuristic architecture to dream state, sedation to gravity. And it certainly warrants another look to figure out things I missed the first time round. For people like me, I guess I will have to go to the theatre several times to get it right. Which means that this review may undergo a complete change by the time I have viewed it the next time. Only thing is, you won't catch me complaining. And Mr. Nolan, Bravo!

PS. One thing about the audiences at IMAX  is strange. They always clap at the end of the show. I don't know why they do it. Are these guys planted by the IMAX guys? Every movie I saw, there is a clapping brigade. Or have they seen a poster which says clapping is a must. Or do they get discounts.

Anita Nair - A Wonderful Writer And A Fine Lady

Charu Sharma, Me, Rajan Bala and Anita Nair

Speaking at the event

Browsing through the book

I read 'Ladies Coupe' by Anita Nair many years ago and instantly fell in love with her and her writing. I simply loved the story, the characters and the context of that warm, cocooned train journey that all those ladies make, and grow as they reach their destinations. I was highly impressed with her story, the use of the language, the irreverent way in which her characters speak and behave (a brash and abrasive bunch who got what they wanted instead of typical Indian writing where the women cried and were sad and victimised). For example, the story of the lady who cooks so well to get back at her philandering husband with his muscular  physique which slowly grows obese as he cannot resist her fat, oily cooking. I also loved the way she wrote the intimate scenes in her book and in my opinion no one can write intimate stuff better than her in Indian writing. Someday, I thought, I will meet this wonderful writer and talk to her about her writing. Though the thought was somewhere in the realms of fantasy, I was dead serious deep inside.

A few years later I heard that she was in town for a book reading. It was at Akshara Book Store in its newly opened store at Jubilee Hills. My writer friend Vinod Ekbote and I, book event junkies in those days,  wondered if we should go - Anita Nair is a well known writer and the store would be packed we thought. But we decided to go to the new store rather than to the Secunderabad store the next day where she had a another  reading. So we drove down on a cold wintry evening to Jubilee Hills.

There were very few people there at the new store - which was a blessing in disguise for us. In a little while Ms. Anita Nair arrived with her husband Suresh and we had the most wonderful time chatting about her books while we waited for some crowd to build up. We sipped tea and ate samosas until the book reading got under way. She was wonderful all through the evening, in spite of the lack of the crowd, and read her passages with a smile. I bought her new release 'The Mistress' then.

So much for dreams coming true. A few years later I was in Bangalore to do a book launch of my first novel 'The Men Within - A Cricketing Tale'. The late legendary cricket writer Rajan Bala was my chief guest, Charu Sharma the well known television commentator was the guest of honour and things were all going fine when I suddenly got this brainwave on the morning of the launch that I should invite Ms. Anita Nair too. I got her number from Lakshmi of Akshara and called her. And she agreed to come. Zahir of Crossword was only too happy to send her a car to pick her up and I was over the moon.

It was a fine evening. I reached the Cross word in Residency Road a few minutes late since I had gone to pick up Rajan Uncle at the Asian Age office. Charu was already there waiting and in a short while Ms. Nair appeared. When she spoke at the dais she expressed her surprise that no one had written a cricket novel yet, especially since books had been written in IWE about everything including she said 'the ocean tide'. There were many questions asked to her about writing and she answered them all quite patiently before going back home - a good one hour drive.

I called her the next day to thank her and she spoke very warmly to me. She was also very helpful and gave me the number of an editor she knew in Penguin to approach for my Children's stories. I met her again when I visited Bangalore another time and have been in touch with her on the mail and the phone whenever the occassion warranted. When her latest book 'Lessons In Forgetting' got released this year I was all set to go to Bangalore but I could not make it.

It is this wonderful side of human nature that people like Anita Nair express, that warms the heart. I wonder if I would have had the time for an unknown writer like me who called out of the blue. Would I travel for an hour through bad roads and the infamous Bangalore traffic for a small event for someone I do not know? I don't know if I would have then, but after that day I certainly will. That is the least I can do for such a fine gesture. I can at least take it forward.

I always felt that her best book is still to come. I love her irreverent take, her humour and the way her prose builds energy as it goes along. In fact I do hope she writes one funny, sexy book sometime. But whatever she writes, she easily tops my favourite list of writers in India and I wish her well and many wonderful books, accolades, love and much success in the future.

Alex's Kitchen, Old Memories

The other day it was the birthday of Choudary alias Ravi alias Koni alias Shiva alias God knows what, my friend from school days and he expressed a desire to visit Alex's Kitchen, a Chinese restaurant near what was once known as Liberty theatre in Hyderabad. This Liberty theatre played English movies only, and was a prominent landmark those days with its typical architecture. Later on I remember the theatre showed a series of shady movies before being broken down to make way for some commercial buildings. Across the road was this little shopping complex with no parking space, an ice cream joint in the front, leading into Chinese stores selling leather goods, shoes and bringing up the rear was Alex's Kitchen, the haven for cheap Chinese eating.

We probably visited Alex's during our college days, maybe 1984 or so. It had the same decor inside with the main theme being red, little chairs and tables huddled together in a very compact way, a small waiting area outside because there was always a crowd waiting to get into the restaurant. They played good western music then and we spent many hours listening to ballads from Wham, Scorpions and others while drinking up soup or eating noodles or fried rice. When we did not have enough money (which was more often the case), we'd order one fried rice and spice it up with sauce and share it - there would always be a good quantity even for growing up sportsmen then. And when some demure lass agreed to go out with us, we'd head to Alex's Kitchen specially if we did not have much cash and is she was not too fussy.

There was this chap called Bob, or at least that's what we used to call him and he was the Alex's icon. Chubby, smiling and always making everyone feel like he knew them very well Bob was in a big way, the face of Alex's and drew many people to come back over and over again because he made them all feel special and wanted. Certainly the chaps behind the counter never ever looked like they wanted to make friends with anyone but Bob seemed to know everyone and always had suggestions for the undecided. Countless times, we spent our birthday party money at this joint - Choudary, Sanjay, Subbu, Ali and me.

I visited Alex's a few years ago just for old times sake and found that the wait had grown longer, Bob had left which brought down the place's charm by 50%, the decor and interiors were the same, the music was gone and that excellent pork dish was missing. It still did not take credit cards, chaps behind the counter were as phlegmatic as ever, the quantities as huge as ever and the prices as affordable as ever.

So it was not very surprising when Choudary expressed his desire to go to Alex's where he probably ran off with one of the girls on the sly, and I said we'd do it. We drove through rain and bad traffic for almost an hour and reached the restaurant. We'd called Ram but he somehow missed our calls and could not make it. Don and Kiran joined us a bit later, feeling rather light headed after a few large ones I was told. We parked, saw the place which was teeming with people, booked ourselves a table, walked out to go to the ATM (still no credit cards), ate jalebis on the road, looked at the leather goods shop that was shutting down and had a sale and got ourselves inside. Choudary ordered as usual, what seemed to be over the top, and we saw huge mountains of food being served, and we all said that we cannot possibly eat it. The music was not there and we missed it, Bob was not there and we missed him but we reminded ourselves of the good old days and dug into the food. Surprise, surprise, we actually managed to polish off the whole thing!

The bill was really small  - 650 bucks for the whole works and we wondered if they had made a mistake. Anyway, the evening was quite enjoyable and when I told Sanjay that we'd gone there, the anguish in his voice at missing out was evident. Well, there's always next time.

Rehmat Baig - Cricket Coach Par Excellence

I met Baig saab when I was first selected to play for the All Saints High School in 1982. It was my last year at school and I somehow picked up some courage to give the school team a shot. I was selected even though I was raw, having had no formal coaching at all in my life till then. And Rehmat Baig saab was already a BCCI coach for South Zone. He was invited by the school to give the new school team a one-week coaching session.

Baig saab and I - At the Golconda High School shoot August 2010)

During the very first session, I knew he meant business. While giving catches he noticed me standing lazily with my hands on my knees and ticked me off. And the way he ticks you off leaves a big impact. I don't think I ever stood like that ever again while taking catches. And he has a way of correcting you without complicating your mind. A minor correction, a small drill and things just worked out. I had some serious problems with my follow through as I was stopping myself with the back leg from following through smoothly. So when Baig saab took us aside to work on the run-up, action and follow-through, I fell down each time I followed through. Baig saab was very patient, took me aside and made me practice the follow through enough times so it never bothered me again.

That one week was good enough to make me believe in my ability a bit more and I performed quite creditably for my team in the league, both with the bat and the ball. In the Inter-School Mano Trophy we did quite well reaching the semi-final stage before losing to HPS, Ramanthapur. I picked five for 25 against a HPS, Begumpet side which was packed with established cricketers and we caused an upset defeat. I had done enough that season to warrant being in the Under 15 side and I was.
It was quite by fluke that I played the tournament for Hyderabad but it worked well for me. I did well against Andhra in the first game and we made the final against Karnataka. The match hung on the first innings lead and against a Karnataka total of 243 we were cruising along at 180 for 3 when there was a slide and we were 208 for eight. I was at the crease with Chetan Joshi, and all hopes seemed lost. I knew Baig saab had come from Hyderabad to watch the match and maybe it was his presence or my ignorance of the occasion, but I swung my bat merrily to make 27 of the most valuable runs for Hyderabad and secured a 4 run lead. The celebrations were crazy, our skipper and my good friend Masood was in tears and the only thing I remember when I walked back was seeing Baig saab's handsome face break out in a smile. And his friend patting me on the back and saying 'You can never write off Hyderabadis.'

Giving catching practice during a break in the shoot

I was selected to play South Zone that year and we went to Calcutta. That summer the BCCI organised a one-month coaching camp for the South Zone boys and Baig saab was our coach. In that one month I learnt much from him. From knowing how to bowl outswingers, cutters, bouncers, batting basics, fielding skills, fitness - it was fantastic. Baig saab would do everything with us. Running long distance, demonstrating each shot, demonstrating bowling, throws, catches.
On returning to Hyderabad I had no team to play for and that was when Vidyuth asked me to play for the MCC. Playing under the legendary M.L. Jaisimha was a great experience. I did fairly well playing in the A-1 division, though not outstandingly. But to my disappointment, I was not considered for any camp, not even one, despite being in the South Zone camp the previous year. That nearly broke my spirit because I could see far more mediocre boys playing with no performance at all. The season passed.

I knew Baig saab was coaching at the Lal Bahadur stadium which was rather far so I preferred practising at the Ameerpet ground. This is a big mistake. For a good coach, it is worth travelling miles and it can make all the difference. I don't know what made me go, but sometime before the next season, Ram and I, went to Baig saab's SAAP nets at Paradise, Secunderabad. I think we went for about two weeks and in those two weeks he corrected most of the things that were going wrong. And that was the difference that season.

I got five wickets against Syndicate Bank and we beat them, six against Andhra Bank and we had them on the mat though we lost, three against SBI which had Azhar and again we had them all out for a paltry 202. MCC did extremely well that year with a new young side mentored by ML Jaisimha, led by Vivek Jaisimha and having young rookies like Venkatapathy Raju, Vidyuth Jaisimha, Sunil Phillips, Imtiaz Ahmed, Pawan Kumar, Sanjay, Srinivas Chakravarthy and yours truly. And that year I played everything from Under 25, Under 22, Under 19 and was in the probables for the Ranji Trophy. In the same momentum, I played the Ranji trophy a couple of years later and did commendably well. However I lost the momentum and after seven matches I was dropped and though Hyderabad went on to win the Ranji Trophy, I was relegated to the sidelines.
There was no Baig saab to go to as he went away to Maldives on a six-year contract. Baig saab was never a man to compromise or pander or politic to get his way. He believed he knew what he was doing and always wanted to do it well. his mission, to educate as many young cricketers as he can in his lifetime. His knowledge of the game from a coaching perspective is amazing. He can handle a toddler as well as a test cricketer, treating them both with the respect each deserves. He says only as much as required for the ward to know, not a word more and not a word less, and you know the immediate difference it can make to the performance. To me, he is the best coach technically, that India has today.

With Executive Producer Prasad Nimmakayala at the GHS shoot

Unfortunately, many of his own wards who went on to play much bigger cricket chose to forget him and his contribution. Every single test cricketer that modern cricket has produced from Hyderabad before Laxman were his wards - notably Azharuddin, Venkatapathy Raju, Shivlal Yadav, Arshad Ayub etc. At the national level he has coached Ravi Shastri, Chandu Pandit, Lalchand Rajput, L. Sivaramakrishna, W.V.Raman etc. Sadly even the institutions, BCCI which hired him thirty years ago, HCA which used his services many years ago, refuse to tap into his vast reserve of knowledge. As a chief coach, he can set several things right but it only appears that the powers that be do not want him to. It is a sad commentary on the state of things that we let such passion and knowledge go waste.

But Baig saab is not one who will let these things hamper him. I was working in the IDBI when I went to a couple of smaller cricket camps to advertise our bonds. I saw Baig saab there, in an obscure coaching camp in Masab tank, in another in RTC Cross Roads, once in Jubilee Hills, doing what he loves best - coaching young minds. To him it was not whether the camp or people were of a stature that he befitted, it was enough that there were young wards ready to learn. And he was off on his scooter at six in the morning and again at three in the evening imparting cricket knowledge to hundreds of youngsters.

When Vidyuth wanted to start his indoor Academy, I told him that it was best to have someone with the commitment and passion as Baig saab to be his Chief Coach. We traced him to a camp in Jubilee Hills, went and met him and he instantly agreed. And since then, its been more than seven years, he goes to the Academy at 6 in the morning on his Kinetic Honda, rain or sun, working at his wards with the same passion I saw thirty years ago.

Baib saab was one of the first persons I gave the manuscript of 'The Men Within' to and it passed muster with him. At the book release function, he was very pleased to receive a copy of the book. Vijay commented that evening - I don't think anyone ever honoured him like that. Which was rather sad.

When the book was being made into a movie, I suggested his name as the cricket consultant to the movie which they hired. I cannot fail to admire the way he brings his boys to the ground, sharp on time, sitting in an orderly fashion, taking sessions while they wait, learning and admiring the craft of the making of movies, doing his best wherever required. At his age, it seems all too much but he is there with a smile. And he is back at the Academy the next day, thinking up new ways to share his knowledge to the boys.

Not once does he back off from learning something new. When he heard of my motivational training he wanted his wards to instantly benefit. And he sat right next to me through the workshop, reading all the notes, seeing the worksheets, adding his bit every now and then.

There is much to learn from such dedication. Teachers who earn respect are made this way. And when we don't respect them, it is we who lose.

Thank you for everything Baig saab and may you continue your journey with all the passion you have.

Article in the Indian Express - August 1, 2010

This article appeared in the New Indian Express, August 1, 2010.

Existentialist Interrogators at Hitech City

I recently learned something that may interest our Home Ministry. You see I had to visit an office near Hitec city to pick up a document. I tried to breeze into the building with a cheery wave as I normally do, when a posse of security guards clamped the gates shut as if I was a suicide bomber. They don’t let any car in, I found out, without twenty badges and stickers certifying that the car and its occupants are not bombs, terrorists, bacteria, virus and so on. I reversed quickly.

I scouted for parking and parked along the kerb outside the office. As I emerged from the car a uniformed chap came charging at me. I panicked and backed into the car.  ‘Out, out,’ he yelled furiously. I rolled down the window a bit and asked him why? No parking here he said. There was a camera in the building and I had parked right in front of it. Why these guys had cameras trained on a public road I failed to understand but I moved away before he strangled me. I was getting nervous now.

Two silent, unfriendly goons sized me up in the security room. ‘Who are you?’ barked one. Who am I? Wasn’t this the most difficult question in the world? As I stuttered, they shot off another question. ‘Where are you coming from?’ And then ‘where are you going?’ I broke down. If I had answers to these questions I would have gone far in my life. Pleased with my reaction, they gave me a paper to fill - name, address, PAN number, passport number, and other stuff. I wanted to go home by now. But they took my picture and gave me a pass with a photo of mine looking as if I was in a jail. ‘Get your contact’s signature,’ they warned. I nodded. If I didn’t they’d shoot me, I knew. Also I think they sent my picture and details to the FBI, CBI and Interpol even as I walked out.

I walked carefully away from them so I don’t provoke any gunfire or grenades at my back and made it safely to the lobby. The fragrant, air conditioned reception beckoned. Ah, civilization! Sympathetic women! I headed to the pretty receptionist, smiling brightly. She had many gadgets on her head, several computers in front and seemed to be talking to the heads of large nations. I gazed awestruck as she pressed buttons efficiently, connecting important people in America, UK, Japan simultaneously. I waited in front of her for a few years, in which I grew a beard and a small family. Finally, when I was disintegrating, she noticed me, and asked ‘YES?’ But before I could answer, she got another call, most likely from the President of USA by the way she spoke. Many visitors came and went about their business. She smiled at them. Stuck hopelessly between her and the guards outside, I was contemplating suicide when she barked ‘Who are you?’ I raised my hands and surrendered.

My suggestion to the Home Ministry is to move this well-trained talent of guards and receptionists to our borders. Infiltrators will not be able to park their vehicles, will have to answer existential questions - who are you, where’re you from and what do you want, and will have to deal with that receptionist. Most terrorists would return to a quiet life of farming thousands of miles from any border. Others would age prematurely and die while waiting to infiltrate.

And, we could get some business done at Hitec city.